


Two Truths and a Lie

by FayeKNaime



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Faceless Arya, Oneshot, my headcanon, will the real Jaqen H'ghar please stand up?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeKNaime/pseuds/FayeKNaime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens immediately after a girl says “A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I’m going home.”? </p>
<p>This is a...reframing...of the ending of the Arya/Faceless Men storyline from the show. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Truths and a Lie

He stands before her, impassive, as she holds Needle’s tip over his heart.

“A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I’m going home.”

She sees something, an expression, flicker over his face. _A smile_? No.

He raises his hand, gently brushes Needle aside, takes a step forward towards her.

She holds her ground, defiant. “I am not afraid.”

_There it is again!_ It _was_ a smile.

He opens his arms.

Needle’s tip wavers, drops, points to the ground.

He takes another step forward, and he enfolds her in an embrace.

She breathes him in--cloves, and ginger, and the tang of blood underneath it all. _Him._ It _is_ him. It doesn’t matter who wore the face, she always knew they weren’t Jaqen H’ghar. Not _her_ Jaqen H’ghar.

It doesn’t matter what his face looks like, underneath, what his real name is.

She knows him.

“It is a harsh test,” he murmurs into her hair, “the making of a faceless one.”

_A test._ “I would have died. The Waif _died_.”

“The chances were even. Evenly given, evenly taken.”

He is the man who made her the Ghost of Harrenhal; the man who has made her a faceless one now.

Her arms rise, tighten around him in turn. “Two truths and a lie,” she says. “I hate you. I want to kill you. I think I am in love with you.”

His hold loosens, and he pulls back a little. His right hand moves from her back. He holds her chin, gentle, and raises her face to his. His head bends forward and his lips brush against hers, lightly, so lightly that they feel like the caress of a passing breeze.

“Go to Westeros, Arya Stark,” he says softly. “And when you are done, come home.”

She buries her face in his chest again. “Can I take some faces with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know I'm on hiatus, but I was just cleaning up some folders and found this thing, so I had to post it.


End file.
